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Jarnak Tane
=Appearance= Jarnak Tane is relatively small and slender for a barbarian. He generally wears his long red hair braided. Pale blue eyes that in the heat of battle, and passion, are fiercely, almost frighteningly, piercing, remain at all other times distant, almost blank. A dark raven has been tattooed on the left side of his face, a mark that has shaped his destiny for most of his young life, this is not a delicate tattoo, but a grotesque caricature carved and inked by a dark shaman only months after he was weaned from his mother's breast. The common tattoo of the Cimmerian Pathfinder appears on his torso, an honour remarkably won by a man with no clan. The hideous slavers who so recently have left him stranded in Tortage hacked from his body the index fingers of both hands in the moments immediately following his capture. This disfigurement has forever robbed him of the life he had strived to build as a ranger, as urged by his strangely close relationship with his usually distant God, the Four Winds. =Personality= Jarnak Tane is known as The Wanderer, as he has no clan, and has not known a home since weeks before his second birthday. He worship's the Four Winds, and in return they have shown him great favour, announcing his whereabouts and deeds to the world of Hyborea, and allowing him to hear the pleas of the needy, and the hearts call of those few that he holds dear, over vast distances. The knowledge and awareness that these gifts bring have also led tis nickname, the Raven's Eye, as he appears when needed, or when opportune, so regularly. For most of his young life he lived as a ranger, and a pathfinder for the lost and deserted in the highest mountains of Cimmeria, until he went to the aid of some travelers in apparent distress, and awoke bound to the harsh benches of a Stygian slave galley where he remained for three years. The art of the bow was lost to him at this time as the slavers removed the index fingers of both hands so as to render him less dangerous, unable to wield the weapon he knew so perfectly. Since his survival of a shipwreck he has taken to fighting with a large weapon in each hand, the strength in his arms after years in the galley making the weapons feel as light as the twin daggers he once carried for the days when his bow was not enough. His is a casual attitude to a life that flows around him. To see a new sunrise, a fresh born calf, a lightning storm over a new river, are the delights of his days and the passage of humanity around him is but a whispering distraction from the wonder of the world and all that flows within it. He defends those in need fiercely and will fight for a cause that he feels worthy, but military service and the hunting of creatures for profit hold no interest for him at all. He cares not at all for money and possessions, frequently dropping a favourite weapon in his trail if a new one is found. No guild has sought his loyalty since his recent arrival in Tortage, and he has offered no pledges, though rumours abound that he serves with The Resistance to Strom the Vile. His lack of human "worldliness" means that he has little knowledge of the intricacies of guilds and politics and he continues to judge each person on his actions. The exceptions to this fairness to all are necromancers who Jarnak will actively hunt wherever possible. The dead, even the enemy dead, are to be honoured, not dug up by these vile sorcerous creatures. Since his near drowning above the ruins of Atlantis, Jarnak has been killed no less than eight times, yet each time he awakes, exhausted yet alive, the pain of each death a constant burden. The Four Winds have told him that the dead gods of Atlantis have blessed him in return for news from the Winds, but the Four Winds will not reveal the reasons for the deal, even to one of their favoured. =History= Jarnak remembers only brief flashes of his life before his near drowning. He recalls his gods, the Four Winds, for they talk to him always. He recalls the ravens, for it was they that saved him from the wolves. He recalls the song of the bow, now a melancholy reminder of prowess lost. He recalls his mothers look of disgust and disdain as he was branded with the dark bird for a reason that the dark shaman would not name, and he recalls his family, and his clan leaving him on a freshly blooded battlefield, an offering to the wolves of their totem, not even his sister's bothering to look back. Perhaps the roads to come will bring back more. Recently Tortage has shown him a darkness in most people that only increases his longing for the roads, the deserts and the highest peaks of the mountains. He believes he owes a debt to those called the Warders, though he has been in no contact with them, for twice a warder has appeared from nowhere to turn the tides of the battles he has won. Debts will be repaid.